


don't turn the radio dial

by dimplesanddrummers



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: also very short wow, this is shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:29:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5763091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimplesanddrummers/pseuds/dimplesanddrummers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where calum is pining and ashton is oblivious</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't turn the radio dial

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so this is my first work on here and im not very good at this, so if you're reading this, please go easy on me. or, you know, just click that little exit button and pretend this never happened. 
> 
> based entirely off lost in stereo by all time low (which is also where the title's from)
> 
> enjoy!

calum isn't sure what he's still doing in this shop, why he came in here in the first place, why he's always come here every weekend.

actually, he's got a pretty good idea.

it started when michael wanted the new all time low album and sent him to the nearest video store to get it, which he was quite annoyed about - he was almost about to beat luke at fifa, dammit! - but looking back he's glad he bowed to michael in the end.

he's glad he did it because that day was the first time he saw the boy with the honey-coloured skin and soft looking curly hair behind the counter, headphones barely visible through the caramel curls, eyes closed in clear enjoyment of the music playing. it's so fascinating every time.

calum knows it's strange, staring at someone from behind a shelf, never mind the fact he's been doing this for two months now. not like staring at random people, just. this boy.

the boy who's been taking over calum's mind, the boy he sees in his dreams, imagines what he's sound like, wonders what his name is. (and, well, even calum can admit it's kind of sad he doesn't know the name of the boy he's definitely in love with.)

and every weekend he's at the video store, watching the boy behind the counter. the boy always has headphones on, always so lost in the music playing. calum wants to know what he's listening to, wants to know what music causes that small, breathtaking smile on his lips which reveal deep dimples as he moves his head to the music. he wonders which song he's currently tapping out on the countertop with those long fingers that have on many occasions caused both calum's chest and his jeans to tighten. (and, okay, he needs to stop thinking about that if he wants to keep said jeans clean.)

it's not healthy, being in love with someone you don't know, someone you'll probably never know - because that's what's happened, calum's gone and let his crush get out of hand, and he's still too nervous to talk to the person his thoughts center around.

(calum doesn't even know how old he is. he wants to, though. he wants to know everything about this boy.)

he swears he's going to stop coming here, he can't keep making excuses to michael and luke every weekend, they've already guessed he likes somebody, and will probably guess where he disappears to every weekend. he swears he's going to stop watching the boy, he's going to stop torturing himself this way and try to get over the boy. (he knows he can't but he can _try_.)

he swears he won't be back but there he is the next day, at the store he's probably memorised by now. the boy behind the counter is dancing, slow, graceful movements that make calum's chest warm with the thought of dancing with him. such a pretty boy shouldn't, _can't_ , be dancing alone.

calum admires the way his thighs look in the skinny jeans that honestly look like they've been painted on. he stares probably way too long at the rip in his jeans at the knees, exposing warm golden skin; he watches the movement of his feet, nimble despite their (quite large) size. (he ignores michael's voice in his head making inappropriate comments about other parts of the boy's body).

he soaks in the sight of his torso, a slice of gold where his shirt rides up as he raises his arms slightly, the muscles prominent in his arms. he wonders what colour the boy's eyes are, even as he's caprivated by the way the boy's dark eyelashes cast shadow against his high cheekbones, the way his cheeks are slightly flushed and his lips are pink and look soft; he's as lost in the sight of the boy as the boy is in the music.

calum thinks, this boy has been nothing but trouble for him. he's the reason calum's always distracted, the only reason he can't breathe and can't sleep and when he does he always dreams of the boy with the curly brown hair and the music. calum has been waiting for so long for something to happen, for the boy to notice, for calum to grow the balls to ask him out - to ask for _his name_ for fuck's sake! - but every time he thinks of the possibilty of talking to the boy, he's left breathless and he can think of a million ways their story can end, a million alternate universes, but he can't act on any of them and he kind of hates himself for it.

he lets it go, though. it's easy to forget all his problems and clear his mind when he's lost in the boy who's lost in stereo.


End file.
